


Binding Ritual

by terrancorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Hermione Granger Has a Saving Friends Thing, Department of Mysteries, F/F, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Not a One shot anymore, Oops, Permanent Injury, Rituals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-13 04:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21488557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrancorn/pseuds/terrancorn
Summary: They were losing the fight, badly, Hermione realized. The Death Eaters used more brutal spells, had more power, and had Bellatrix Lestrange with them. If she were to be taken out of the fight they would have a good chance to make it out of the department of mysteries.Hermione looked at Harry and mouthed “Forgive me. Run, soon!”. She whispered the incantation.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 58
Kudos: 279





	1. The Department of Mysteries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyssandra_Med](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/gifts).

They were losing the fight, badly, Hermione realized. The Death Eaters used more brutal spells, had more power, and had Bellatrix Lestrange with them. Her magnificent dance, and no other word would do the spectacle justice, side-stepped spells thrown her way, batted others aside with an elegant flick of her wrist, and shielded any remaining spells with efficient economy of motion.

Their running fight had taken a lot out of them. She could see the rest of the group was exhausted, many injured, if not badly, so far, blood leaking from scratches and cuts. They were at a standstill again, Lucius Malfoy ineptly trying to convince Harry to give up the prophecy.

Hermione had stumbled trying to sidestep a jinx thrown her way; the delay had been sufficient for Bellatrix Lestrange to catch up with her. Lestrange's wand was pressed into her neck. Her own wand had been wrestled from her hand and was now stowed out of range somewhere in Lestrange's beautiful robes. Lestrange had wrenched Hermione's wand arm behind her back; Hermione tried to free her hand, but her captor held her hand in a firm grip. Her left hand ineffectively clawed at Bellatrix's wand arm.

Hermione looked down at the arm snaked around her neck and saw that at least her captor had not come out of the fight unscathed. Small cuts littered Bellatrix's arm; shrapnel from the prophecy orbs were most likely to blame. Few spells had even connected with the powerful witch. If she were to be taken out of the fight they would have a good chance to make it out of the department of mysteries.

A trickle of blood reached the edge of Bellatrix's arm; a drop fell on Hermione's hand. Hermione looked at the blood on her hand and remembered a loose page in a book of rituals she had picked up in the used books section at Flourish & Blotts. The page was from some other old book, now a bookmark in a chapter on restraining magics.

Hermione looked at Harry and mouthed “Forgive me. Run, soon!” 

She held out her left hand, tilting it so one of her own cuts was lined up with a cut on Bellatrix's arm. She whispered the incantation, 

> My blood to your blood  
Your blood to my blood  
My magic to your magic  
Your magic to my magic  
My core to your core  
Your core to my core  
My will to your will  
Your will to my will 

She could feel the wave of magic wash over them. The words, whispered in her ear, surprise evident, “Muddy, what did you do?” made it clear that her captor had felt the magic too. 

Her captor swung her around, facing her, and repeated, “Muddy? What. Did. You. Do?”

Hermione shrugged and smirked. The longer this distraction lasted the better her friends' chance to escape, so keeping quiet seemed best. She didn't expect to live through the night, but at least now her friends might.

She felt _something_ draw on her magic, briefly and gently. She saw Lestrange's dark eyes widen. “That, muddy, does _not_ quite do what you think it does, even if for now you get your way.”

The dark witch pulled Hermione with her as she stepped over to one of the other Death Eaters. “Alecto,” she said to Luna's capturer, “muddy here did something naughty I've got to try and _fix_. Try not to let Lucy fuck this up. I hope to get back to the mansion tonight. If not, usual place, usual time, okay?” The other Death Eater nodded.

Hermione heard Harry shout “Run!” just as Lestrange pulled her into the next room. She smiled; her distraction had given her friends a chance.

“So, muddy, while I see about completing that ritual you started before it kills us both, why don't you tell me why you were reading about binding rituals?”

Lestrange pulled her along as though she was an unruly toddler being dragged out of a supermarket by its irate mother. The raven-haired witch opened door after door, desperately searching for something. What exactly they needed eluded Hermione; the ripped page hadn't listed any specific requirements.

“You used legilimency,” Hermione gasped, “that's what the draw on my magic was.”

“I did, muddy, and good thing I did or we'd both end up keeling over before the night is over. Anyway, any chance you're going to tell me why you were researching binding rituals, then?”

“When Sirius escaped from Azkaban the ministry decided to send dementors to Hogwarts. They attacked Harry multiple times, so they're clearly not 'under control', whatever the ministry says, but even if they were their mere presence is torture. Torturing prisoners is barbaric and that's not even touching upon the question about the use and validity of prison itself. There must be better alternatives, the way community service and such exist in the Muggle world, so I was wondering if it would be possible to limit what magic people can do. Have some kind of magically-enforced parole, as it were. So we could maybe have some option that isn't torturing people?”

Lestrange seemed to finally be satisfied with what she found in one of the rooms and pulled both of them inside. The room was nondescript, mostly empty with a small desk and filing cabinet in one corner. 

The witch raised her wand swiftly; Hermione cringed back. Her captor sighed, letting go of her arm. “If I promise not to harm you, will you let me have some magic, so we can complete the ritual you started?”

When Hermione hesitated, the witch chuckled, “Or, of course, you can dawdle until the half-complete ritual unravels both our magic and we die a painful death in some godforsaken flunky's office.”

“How,” Hermione said, hesitatingly, “how do I even let you have some magic? I don't know how this works.”

“That much was obvious,” Lestrange responded, deadpan, “good thing I happen to know this ritual so know what to do. You just need to relax when I cast, so you don't clamp down on the flow of our magic. I'm going to clean the floor, draw a ritual circle, transfigure our clothes and clean us up, okay?” Hermione nodded. She focussed on her breathing, trying to ignore the wand movements and incantations. She felt the magic flow through her as the floor was scourgified and a basic ritual circle was drawn. The healing charms felt soothing, both flowing through and over her. The draw for the transfiguration was more intense; she looked down and saw a simple black robe, almost so simple it might have been a shift. Lestrange was wearing a similar robe, but in white. It was surprisingly flattering and unexpectedly revealing. Hermione blushed.

“Right,” Lestrange said, “we'll both kneel inside the circle. I have a ritual knife on me; I'll have to cut both our palms. Normally, we'd cut our left hands for that, but that's not an option today.” 

Responding to Hermione's questioning look she said, “I'll explain later; we're running low on time. Anyway, the cuts will heal themselves once the ritual is complete, which will be once we both have recited the words you used. You should introduce yourself first, though, so start with 'I, your full name, hereby vow' and then the incantation.”

Hermione nodded. She didn't know if Lestrange was telling the truth about the risk of not doing the ritual the way she just described it, but it felt like it would not harm her, at least. And she had been willing to do the ritual even if it got her killed, only to give her friends a chance, so this she could do. Even in the worst case, she imagined, it would have given Harry and the others some extra time.

“Once we've completed the ritual we'll be leaving here,” Lestrange continued, “I promise I will not aid my erstwhile companions and will hide us both from them. I ask that you do the same: aid nor attack either side, and hide us both from both sides.”

Hermione thought about it for a moment and then nodded. 

Lestrange reached for her hand and guided her, gently, towards the ritual circle. They knelt, facing each other. Lestrange slowly reached inside a pocket and pulled out a silver athame, placing it between them. She reached out with her right hand, palm up, and waited for Hermione to lay her right hand in her open palm. Neither one of them spoke. Lestrange calmly reached for the knife, motioned for them to separate their hands so there was room for the knife. Hermione saw and felt Lestrange press her hand against the knife edge and did likewise. Lestrange pulled the knife from between their hands, cutting their palms with matching lines, the cuts touching, their blood mingling. Lestrange nodded at her, and she spoke the incantation:

> I, Hermione Jean Granger, vow  
my blood to your blood,  
your blood to my blood,  
my magic to your magic,  
your magic to my magic,  
my core to your core,  
your core to my core,  
my will to your will,  
your will to my will.

She felt a repeat of the earlier wave of magic. When the wave had washed over them she looked up at Lestrange, who now started to speak:

> I, Bellatrix Aquila Black, vow  
my blood to your blood,  
your blood to my blood,  
my magic to your magic,  
your magic to my magic,  
my core to your core,  
your core to my core,  
my will to your will,  
your will to my will.

The wave now felt like a maelstrom, buffeting each witch in turn, again and again. As the tempest receded Lestrange, no _Black_, apparently, helped her stand up.

“I'll return our robes to their previous form and clean away the circle, if that's okay,” the dark-haired witch said.

Hermione nodded. After a moment she spoke, “Weren't you Bellatrix Lestrange, rather than Black?”

“I was, but you starting this ritual earlier ends most bonds that were previously made, so I got to carry my own name again. Though, pet, I think at this point you should call me Bella.” 

Hermione didn't quite know what to say to that, so she kept quiet. A few quick spells later they were on their way out, quietly making their way towards an exit.

Bella, though Hermione still felt it odd to call her that, even only in her mind, had cast a few spells to make them less likely to be noticed, but even so they were cautious making their way up, towards the apparition points at the top level of the ministry building.

The empty drab institutional beige hallways felt unsettling; there was no room for wonder, there was no room for delight here. Office door after office door after office door. Filing cabinets lined the hallways, the vast quantity of documents exceeding what all those innumerable offices could hold.

Bella seemed to know her way through the maze, so she led the way, Hermione following behind. Bella's steps were lithe and careful, yet self-assured. Hermione felt as though she was floundering, in comparison.

They heard voices further down the hallway. Bella turned around, placed her finger on Hermione's lips, and motioned towards a small space between two filing cabinets. 

The two witches scooted into the narrow space and Bella cast a set of spells over them.

Hermione recognized the voices, Sirius and Tonks encouraging each other and the rest of their group to hurry, to make their way to the Department of Mysteries. After the group was out of hearing range, Bella signalled Hermione to remain in their hiding space for a little while longer. 

After the brief wait, Bella reached for Hermione's hand and helped her up. For the remainder of their journey, Bella didn't let go of Hermione's hand, gently guiding her to the apparition points. It felt reassuring to Hermione, a promise she wouldn't be left behind in this maze.

They encountered nobody else, no office workers, no Death Eaters, no other members of the Order of the Phoenix. 

Hermione huffed at the gaudy monstrosity in the main hall; Bella heard her and grinned at her.

At the apparition point Bella stopped. “Pet, are you any good at first aid?” Bella asked, and at Hermione's confused look, “I may have to do a tricky bit of apparating to get us home safe. Do you have a string or something to tie a tourniquet, if necessary? In my right pocket there's essence of dittany, which will seal wounds.” 

Hermione looked down at what she was wearing; she knelt down, ripping one of the laces out of her boots as quickly as she could. Bella nodded and gave her a quick grin, swiftly hidden behind her regal mask, then held out her right arm, inviting Hermione to move close to her companion. She stepped into the inviting arm which closed around her.

Hermione saw Bella hold her left arm straight out, but before she could even ask she felt the nauseating pull of apparition in her belly. All around her was blue-gray sky, below her waves as far as the eye could see. Almost as soon as she registered the unexpected surroundings the pull of another apparition took them elsewhere.

She was trying very hard to not throw up when an amused Bella chimed in with, “Anytime now with the tourniquet would be good, pet.” 

Hermione swallowed and looked up and only now noticed that her companion was bleeding heavily from the stump of her left arm. “You splinched,” she said, shocked, stepping over with the lace in hand to tie the tourniquet. The gory wound and blood did not make her feel any less queasy; she fumbled the knot at first, but after a calming breath or two succeeded in tying the lace well enough to stem the bleeding.

“If I heal this with dittany the healers won't be able to re-attach your arm,” Hermione said, “so should I hold off?”

“You're a clever witch, aren't you, pet?” Bella said, teasingly, “But that arm is lost; I splinched it somewhere over the North Sea, remember?”

After a moment she continued, “Remember that I mentioned that you initiating the ritual broke many previous bonds?”

Hermione nodded.

“That included my marriage, and _that_ ending can't be but a good thing, considering the arse forced me into servitude to the Dark Lord. And that was the second bond that broke, and _he_ is not too forgiving of people who break free, no matter what the reason. So it seemed best to get rid of his tracker and way of torturing me, and as of a little time ago, you, before he took his displeasure out on us.”

Hermione paled. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

“So break out the dittany, pet, before I bleed out in the front garden,” Bella said, again with her little smirk. 

Hermione reached into Bella's robe and grabbed the bottle of essence of dittany, uncapped it and poured it over the wounds. She saw the flesh knit itself together, slowly, until finally the skin sealed over. She untied the tourniquet and took a step away. Bella cast a cleaning spell, vanishing the blood stains from their robes, and leaving the stump looking raw.

Bella turned to look at Hermione, smiled, and held out her hand. Hermione reached out, and was led, hand in hand, to the front door of a beautiful house.

“Indulge me, pet?” Bella said, with that irresistible grin again. Hermione nodded. Bella cast a featherlight spell on the young witch, stored her wand, crouched down and in one swift motion wrapped her arm around Hermione's bum and lifted her up. Hermione, briefly unnerved, steadied herself by wrapping her arms around Bella's neck.

Bella carried her right to the front door, looking up at the young witch, “Mind doing the honours, pet?” 

Hermione thought for a moment, then realized what Bella was asking for, and loosened one arm from around her neck to reach for the door handle and pushed open the door.

Bella stepped inside, smiled warmly at the witch in her arm, “Welcome home, Mrs Black.”


	2. The Grangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first conflict of their married life happened almost as soon as they got home from the ritual.

The first conflict of their married life happened almost as soon as they got home from the ritual.

Bella carried Hermione into the house, welcomed her, left her speechless for a few minutes, then guided her to the library, for a bit of a chat.

It turned out both Bella and Hermione like to pace and gesticulate while working things out and the way the library was set up there was only the one path, in front of the fireplace.

After some mutual discomfort and mumbled sniping things came to a head.

“Look, I need some space so that I can think,” Hermione huffed, blocked from going forward by Bella's coming the other way.

“So do I, little witch, as you may have noticed. Why don't you just banish that chaise and shift those two seats, then we'd both have space,” bit an exasperated Bella.

“I am _not_ going to banish someone else's furniture,” Hermione snapped.

“It is not _someone else's_ furniture, pet, or did you forget already you're at Black Cottage and you're Mrs Black?”

“Ehm. No. I did not forget. Remember I mentioned needing some space to think?” Hermione grumbled. “_That_ is the thing I need to get my head around, so for now maybe assume I don't consider this _mine_.”

She had wanted to leave it at that, but something in her made her add, quieter, “yet.”

A smile flitted over Bella's face, before she banished that chaise and moved the chairs as she'd suggested.

“So, pet, who gets the path in front of the bookshelves and who gets the path in front of the fireplace,” she asked, teasingly adding, “it looks like that's going to be the more important decision for us, rather than deciding which side of the bed to sleep on.”

Hermione blushed and shyly requested the space in front of the bookshelves.

Half an hour later, having both paced a fair distance and exchanged snippets of thought while processing all that had happened that evening, Hermione flopped into one of the chairs, exhaustion catching up with her.

Yet this was the moment she realised her friends had no idea at all that she was safe. She groaned as she sat up.

“Bella,” she said, “is there some way I can let my friends know I'm okay? I think we've got enough to talk about that I'm not going to make it back to Hogwarts soon, and I'd rather they not worry.”

“I'd suggest sending a letter, but that may give away more than you want to say right now,” Bella said, “as there aren't that many families that use ravens rather than owls.”

Hermione mulled that over. “Could we, maybe get one of your ravens to deliver a letter to Hedwig, Harry's owl, or to an elf?”

“Professional pride might make handing off a letter to an owl a bit tricky, but sending a letter to a house elf should work,” Bella said. “Easiest if you know the elf's name, though.”

Hermione nodded, “We can send it to Dobby then, and include payment for his services as mail carrier.” At Bella's look she added, “He's a free elf. It's a long story; I'll tell you after we get through _this_,” at the last word she opened her arms wide, gesturing around her.

The next morning, Dobby popped in front of Harry, “Message for you, sir, Harry Potter, sir,” and handed over Hermione's letter.

> Harry,  
please share this letter with Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna. I am writing this in the middle of the night, having just found a way to send this letter.  
I am safe, the scratches and scrapes from the battle were all healed, but I am exhausted.  
I hope you are all fine; as I was pulled from the room I heard that my distraction did give you, my friends, a chance to get away safely.  
I think making the trip to Hogwarts is more hassle than it's worth, considering the end of year is coming up, so I will head to my parents in the morning and take the next few days mostly to relax and recover and think about things.  
Ginny, could you pack up my things and bring them with you on the Hogwarts Express?  
I'll meet you all at the station, so we can wish each other a good summer properly.  
Love,  
HJ*

When Ginny saw the letter she said it was obvious that Hermione had been stressed: some letters were crossed out, ink blots dotted the page, and even her customary “HJG” signature had an ink blot making it partially illegible. “Any other time,” Ginny said, “Hermione would have rewritten that letter. So let's get her a letter back as soon as possible, and reassure her we all made it out.”

When Luna saw the letter and its ink blots she just smiled and said, “Oh, good.”

* * *

“So, not that I'm complaining,” Hermione said, “but why didn't you just kill me?”

“The ritual you stumbled upon,” Bella said, then with a smirk, “as you likely figured out by now, is a _marriage_ ritual.

It bound my magic to yours, so I wasn't able to cast anything without your approval, and vice versa.”

Hermione just raised her eyebrows, then, deadpan, “I saw your daggers, Bella, so _that_ seems unlikely to have been the reason.”

Bella snorted. “Impatient, aren't you?”

“The ritual you used,” she continued, “is ancient. It came over with the Norman Invasion and had been in use for a good while before then; the oldest form I found dates from sometime around the year 870.

I guess you assumed it was a binding ritual, to be able to control someone else's use of magic, with the phrasing of 'my core to your core'?”

Hermione shrugged and nodded, somewhat ashamed of having made a wrong assumption, and being called out for it.

“Yeah, pet, that phrase is the key one,” Bella said, still smirking, “because in the earlier versions, before someone transcribed it wrong, it said something closer to _mon coeur à ton coeur_.”

Before Hermione could voice the question, Bella raised her hand to stop the interruption, and added “the _intent_ is still fundamentally the same, so the change in phrasing doesn't mess up the ritual. But it seems,” and here her intonation went flat, “somewhat unwise to, say, stab someone through the heart when they've just bound their heart to yours.”

She paused a moment, “Well, that, and it seems a rude way of thanking someone for getting you out of fifteen years of hell.”

She held her arm open, inviting Hermione closer, then hugged her, and offered an earnest, “Thank you, pet,” followed by, blithely, “of course we're now likely targets two and three for the Dark Lord, right behind your friend.”

The two witches talked until the wee hours of the morning, then fell asleep in the library. When their alarm went they woke blearily. “Pet, couldn't your parents have some occupation where they slept in until noon, rather than our having to get there at the crack of dawn?”

“Yeah, well,” huffed Hermione, “next time you get unilaterally married by someone who misunderstood the purpose of a ritual, make sure to check their parents' occupations first.”

Bella snorted. “I'll make sure to do that, pet.”

After a moment of silence she added, “You do realise that the bonds established by this ritual can't be broken? Old Magic tends to be like that.”

In a voice laced with regret, quieter, Bella continued, “It's what I wanted to research before my parents sold me to _Lestrange_.” She spat the name.

“Hey Bella,” Hermione said, moving close, placing her hand on Bella's arm, “how about we do that, together, once the Dark Menace is disposed of, because that sounds _fascinating_.”

Bella smiled. She brought out invigoration draughts. Each downed one of the vile concoctions, so they'd at least make it through the day.

As they got ready they discussed how little interest mages seemed to have in determining how things worked, and how fascinating it would be to work out exactly what all those spells and rituals _do_.

“Ready?” Bella asked.

Hermione swallowed. “As ready as I'll ever be.”

Bella apparated them to a spot out of view in the park near Hermione's home. Hermione grabbed Bella's hand and guided her companion through the neighbourhood of her childhood.

* * *

Hermione's parents hadn't expected any visitors that morning, and certainly not before seven. They looked at each other, worried.

Emma Granger opened the door and to her surprise found her daughter, who was supposed to still be in Scotland, and an older woman she'd never met before.

Casually, as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening, Hermione brightly said, “Sorry, mom, I left my keys at school,” and then in a more formal tone, “This is Bellatrix Black. She is,” Hermione hesitated a moment, “a close friend.”

Hermione turned and continued, “Bella, this is my mother, Dr. Emma Granger.”

Visibly flustered, Emma Granger stumbled through the introductions, invited the visitors in, and introduced her husband and their previously unknown guest.

Hermione and Bella joined the couple at the breakfast table. Daniel, Hermione's father, went to make tea for their unexpected breakfast companions.

The conversation was hard. Bella's apt but absolutely correct yet not very gentle opening line of, “So, your daughter may have played down some things about the wizarding world,” set the stage.

Hermione's parents were livid when they found out about the troll (rather than 'a large animal'), the petrifications (rather than some infectious but harmless condition that required isolation and precluded writing), and the dementors. The possessed professor also didn't instil much confidence in Hogwarts. They had known about the tri-wizard mess and that 'some terrorist' had gained more power through its dramatic end.

At eight Dan called his office and asked the assistant to rebook that day's appointments. At ten Emma called her office and cancelled her afternoon appointments.

By early afternoon they seemed to understand how dire the situation was. Emma had asked if they couldn't just pull Hermione out of the wizarding world. Bella explained that while technically possible, people whose magic was bound and who were obliviated about its existence tended to live miserable lives, somehow aware they were missing something, but never able to fill the void.

“We,” Bella coughed, “ended up…” She hesitated, searching for a word, “_involved_ in a ritual yesterday, at the Ministry, during a confrontation between followers of that 'terrorist' and your daughter and her friends.”

Emma and Dan looked at Bella, expectingly. Hermione reached over and squeezed Bella's hand, reassuringly. Her parents shared a look, but said nothing, waiting for Bella to continue.

“We ended up bonded; our magic is intertwined. We need to be near each other to keep our magic stable. Not all the time, but a lot of the time.”

She considered how to word the next bit. “There was another effect of the ritual,” she settled on, “which has likely made us,” she pointed at Hermione and then herself, “targets of the 'terrorist' and his followers.”

“I can't leave the country, because of things that happened the last time this group was active,” Bella continued, and Hermione marvelled at her equivocation, “but I do have a safe location where we can stay until the conflict ends.”

Bella looked at the Grangers across from her, “You would be welcome to stay there. We'd be happy to host you, but you would be unable to leave for the duration, which would be unpleasant for you and cause difficulties with attending work elsewhere.” 

“Hermione and I spoke about possibilities and she suggested that maybe you consider either…” She searched for the word but couldn't find it, Hermione whispered it, and Bella continued, “a sabbatical, where you travel the world for a year or two. Or, the other option is to emigrate. There would be no obvious records to lead this 'terrorist' and his group to you, so settling overseas would keep you out of danger.”

Hermione felt awful. Indirectly admitting to having lied to them for years to then tell them they needed to uproot their lives, as soon as possible, please, because _she_ had misunderstood a ritual felt like too much to take. 

Her parents were still at the breakfast table, discussing their plans. Hermione and Bella had stepped out, to give her parents some time alone, and were now idly standing in the garden, musing.

Bella looked at Hermione, opened her arm, motioned, inviting her in for a hug. No words were spoken.

Neither one noticed Hermione's parents look out of one of the garden windows.

Hermione was surprised when her parents called them in and told them they'd called a mover. Emma had spoken to the hospital and would be taking a sabbatical, starting in about a month, thanks to an accommodating HR staffer. Dan had spoken to his partners in his dental office, who agreed to take over his patients, and, if he decided to stay away for longer than a year, consider buying him out. In the mean time they planned to live in a long-term stay hotel, while they booked travel to Australia and New Zealand, “and maybe, while we're there, see if they have need of a dentist and a dental surgeon somewhere warm.”

“We love you deeply,” Emma said, “but it's been obvious to us that you were building a life we could not truly be part of. In a way we did the same when we pursued higher education; our parents knew life as labourers, as factory workers, but had no understanding of what it meant to work as a surgeon or a dentist. They loved us, they encouraged us, and they never stopped doing so, even when we experienced a life they did not understand.”

She looked at her daughter, caressing her cheek. “We're doing the same for you, love. We don't understand your life now, with rituals that bring dangers but not just those, clearly not just those,” Emma glanced at Bellatrix, “and we want to be around to love you for a long time.”

“It is hard,” Dan chimed in, “that we have to walk away to keep you safe. It is hard that I can't go talk to a head teacher or a coach and fix things for you. You've held things close to your heart to keep your world, your love of magic, safe. That hurts, but we understand, somehow. We've always wanted you to be your own person. From what you and Bella tell us, staying is dangerous. I expect you'd try to protect us, even if we stayed.” He looked at Hermione, who nodded. “Which means we'd be the one putting you in danger. And we won't do that.”

He turned to Bella, “Please, take care of her. Keep her safe, please.”

“I will, as if she were my own,” Bella promised. Hermione looked at her and smiled at the sentiment and at the clever equivocation, once again.

They stayed the rest of the day, chatting about the Grangers' travel plans, Hermione's childhood adventures (much to her embarrassment and everyone else's amusement), and a variety of other topics. They did not talk about magic or what was happening in the wizarding world, leaving that heavy subject be.

As they were walking to the park, to apparate back home, Bella asked “Are you Fae or something?”

“What? How do you mean?” Hermione stuttered.

“Your parents treat you like a _person_, like someone with opinions to listen to, with experiences that matter, someone valuable.”

Hermione stopped walking, pulling Bella close to her, and hugged her tight. “They're human, Bella. Not perfect, but pretty good,” and quieter she added, “as yours should have been, Bells, as yours should have been.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted what's now the first chapter, expecting it to be a one shot with a nice open ending, and for that to be that.
> 
> And then my muse bounced in, pointing out that I knew _exactly_ how Hermione and Bella's first fight would go.
> 
> So, yeah, it's not a one shot anymore.


	3. Meeting Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella and Hermione meet one of Bella's friends. Bella makes a little change, and Hermione goes to meet the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross Station.

“Bella,” Hermione, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, “why am I waiting with you, to meet some Death Eater?”

“Well,” Bella said, “you…” but before she could offer a snarky answer Hermione interrupted, “No, I mean, why am I so _comfortable_ with you. A few days ago you held me hostage and I expected you to kill me, and now I'm trusting you to keep me safe. I even took you to see my _parents_, for goodness sake.

Well, and why am I holding your hand half the time?”

Bella looked at her and grinned, “Seems like my mu… Seems like my pet hasn't learned everything there is to learn, yet.”

She was quiet for a moment, deep in thought.

“Have you noticed how young wizards and witches tend to get married?” she asked, and before Hermione could respond continued, “Like your redheaded friend's parents, who got married before they'd even finished Hogwarts. And okay, the aftermath of a visit to a broom closet may have been a factor there, but think of the ages of Potter's parents, or Narcissa and Lucius.”

Hermione nodded, still confused.

“Magic is more than just wands and runes, it's more than spells and potions,” Bella said. “Magic is a part of you, it's a fundamental part of your identity.

Remember when I told your parents about the lives of those who have their magic bound?”

Hermione hummed, nodding.

“They miss something that is essential to their being.

When witches and wizards find someone attractive there's more than their partner's body and character at play. Their magics must be compatible or things will never work out. But when their magics are _truly_ compatible, magic itself seems to help push things along.”

Bellatrix's grin appeared again, “Remember your _interesting_ choice in ritual?”

At the teasing, Hermione sighed internally and nodded.

“If our magics hadn't been compatible you would've still achieved your goal of a distraction, but rather because we'd both have been screaming in pain, possibly ending up dead. Or squibbed.”

Hermione paled.

“When the Houses started setting up arranged marriages that ritual fell out of use, because it tends to ruin the festive mood when the spouses-to-be have their magic destroyed, spectacularly and painfully.”

Bellatrix shrugged.

“On the other hand, when the ritual does work the spouse's magics blend, and there's an… almost compulsion, I guess, to trust each other and to not betray that trust, and to seek to be near each other.”

Hermione paled again. Revulsion in her voice, she asked “my magic is _forcing_ me to trust you?”

Bella shook her head. “No, it doesn't _force_ anything. It suggests, it encourages. If you'd done that ritual with Rodolphus, he'd have turned around and stabbed you through the heart. His hatred for muggles and muggleborn is so deep that there's no room for his magic to encourage anything kinder…”

Hermione started, “But, Bella,…” and was interrupted by the crack of apparition. She turned towards the source of the sound, pulling out her wand. Bella pushed her wand arm down, whispering “Shhh, pet, remember we were meeting my friend here? I've warded this area, so only the three of us can apparate in.”

Before anything more could be said the new arrival had run to Bella and was hugging her, exclaiming, in delight, “Bella! You're still alive! I hoped, but…”

Bella, confused, “Ehm. Yeah. Did you doubt me?”

Without letting go, Alecto rushed into her story. “After the mission went tits up, we portkeyed out, pretty much right as the Order arrived. I figure we lucked out they hadn't gotten wards up yet. The Dark Lord was furious, crucio-ing us all, but mostly Luce, and then he felt his connection to your dark mark break and everything went to hell.”

Bella gently pushed Alecto away from her, conjuring seats for the three of them. Alecto sat down, but reached out to Bella, seemingly wanted to be reassured her friend was truly there. Hermione sat down, after scooting her seat closer to Bella's and resting her hand on Bella's shoulder.

“The Dark Lord screamed in fury, then killed Luce. The Malfoy wards ejected the entirety of the inner circle and the Dark Lord from the property. Without both the heir and regent – Draco and Narcissa – present to perform the inheritance ritual the wards couldn't be reset to allow us entry again.

That drove the Dark Lord into apoplexy. Rodolphus finally offered Lestrange manor as a place for _him_ to reside.

He dismissed the inner circle and left for the manor, only taking the Lestrange brothers with him.

He's not called anyone to him since, as far as I know. I hope when he does call us to him it's not for us to follow dear Luce's fate.”

She paused for a moment, worry evident on her face then shook her head and brightened. “So, what happened to you and the mud…” Before she could complete the word Bella placed a finger over Alecto's lips.

“Alecto, may I introduce you to Mrs Hermione Jean Black.”

Alecto's mouth fell open, gaping at her friend and _her friend's spouse_.

Bella continued with levity in her voice. “Mrs Black here performed a marriage ritual to disrupt my magic, to offer her friends a chance to escape.” And with some delight, “It also broke most previously made bonds.”

Alecto's shocked “Oh” was followed by an “oh” that suggested understanding, followed a moment later by a third “oh”, one tinged with wonder. Bella looked at her friend, questioningly.

Alecto, clearly still somewhat shocked, whispered, “I'll tell you once you finish your story.”

Bella described her search for a suitable ritual space, racking her brain trying to remember if there was a way to break the ritual bond, realising that her obligations to Lestrange and the Dark Lord were gone, and deciding that a chance at freedom sounded better. She described her choice to splinch her arm so that the Dark Lord couldn't use it to track and harm her.

Alecto nodded. “Ah, that explains why he thinks you died, then.” The she grinned and waved at Bella's arms. “Well, that, and the noticeable asymmetry.”

As her grin faded, she added, “The moment he realises you're alive and finds out what you did, you're going to be top of his list.”

Bella nodded. “We know. We're doing what we can to prepare for that.

"So, what was that thing you realised, earlier?”

“You remember that little blonde waif,” Alecto asked, “the one I had as a hostage when you got, ahem, married?”

Bella nodded, Hermione chimed in with “That's Luna.”

“She turned to me when you pulled Mrs Black away, and said that if I were interested we could have something like those two, as she waved at you, and to just let her know.”

Both Bella and Hermione were left speechless. After a long pause, Hermione nodded. “Yeah, I can see Luna doing that. Not that I know how she knew what I'd done or that her magic would agree with yours,” with that she motioned at Alecto.

“If…” Bella hesitated. “If you go down that road, and as your brother probably wouldn't take well to that,” she looked at Hermione, “I think we'd be happy for the two of you to come stay at our place?” Hermione nodded.

They chatted for a while longer, planning ways how to safely stay in touch, Alecto teasing Bella (and Hermione) about their surprise marriage, and Bella retaliating by sharing stories of their time at Hogwarts.

By the time they made it home both were ready for bed, yesterday's short night catching up with them. Bella pointed Hermione at a guest room, then headed toward the master bedroom.

* * *

Hermione made her way to the kitchen, bleary-eyed. Bella was there, drinking coffee, and she looked as though her night had been as restless as Hermione's.

Without a word the two stepped close to each other and hugged. A few minutes later they let go and Hermione, blushing, stepped over to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee as well. She grimaced at the flavour.

“Not to your taste, pet?”

“No, but I'd like to get through this day, so it seemed worth a try. I don't understand how something that smells so nice when it's being roasted tastes so vile.”

Bella took a large gulp of her coffee and grinned. “I think that's one we'll have to put into the 'agree to disagree' category.

"How about we have some porridge and then have some duelling practice; that may wake us up even better than this ambrosia.” She smirked at Hermione's scowl.

* * *

Hermione flinched as the dark witch stormed at her, wand high.

“Oh, is the little kitty scared,” Bella cooed mockingly, and then loosed an array of spells at her and cackled.

Hermione side-stepped one spell and her quickly raised shield absorbed the second spell, but the third broke through. She fell on her knees, gasping for breath.

Bella cast the counter-curse, tiptoeing her way to her opponent. “You think too much, pet. Thinking is for the library; here you've got to move and cast.”

Catching her breath, Hermione nodded. “Well. So. This is. Where. 'Crazy Bella'. Lives,” she gasped.

Bella cackled, delighted. “Remember when I told you I wanted to research old magics?”

Hermione nodded.

“That doesn't pay the bills, so I thought I'd enter the European duelling circuit. That'd give me both an excuse to travel to different countries and their libraries, and enter competitions to earn some coin while I was there.

"Duelling here I could easily unsettle my opponents by mentioning politics or family scandals or whatever.

"I get by in French, German, and Russian so could probably throw some insults at opponents there, but there are way more languages than just those three.” She helped Hermione stand up, and the two walked to their duelling starting positions.

Bowing she continued, “turns out that someone cackling and baby-talking while casting spell chains at them tends to work, too,” and she stormed forward, tall, regal, and cackling like mad, putting Hermione on the defensive.

“See?” Bella said. “Well, and I enjoy duelling, so why wouldn't I laugh,” she added, then cackled loudly.

She tried a spin, casting a chain, the last spell overshooting Hermione's position.

“Dammit!” she shouted, then cast another chain, breaking Hermione's shield again, knocking her back.

Muttering expletives under her breath, Bella rushed to Hermione and helped her up.

“What's wrong, Bella?”

Bella stepped back, then stormed at Hermione, spinning as she shouted “One”, “Two”, “Three” at different points in her turn.

“Without my arm to control my turn my spins don't work out; two undershot and three overshot. Plus, in battle it's nice to have a dagger in my off-hand. Turns out that that requires the presence of an off-hand.”

“Wouldn't a prosthetic help,” Hermione asked, “with some runes to get it to the right weight and maybe there's some way to get a dagger to work with one of those. Come to think of it, with runes we might be able to make it work as a tiny shield, so it could be used to deflect jinxes, maybe,…” 

Bella interrupted her sudden rush of words. “Pet, pet, pet, slow down.

"Like Moody's peg-leg? I don't think a stick would do much good for me.”

Hermione shook her head. “Don't wizards and witches have proper prosthetics, you know, things molded to have the right shape and behaviour so they can replace a limb, at least somewhat effectively?”

“Why would we need to?” Bella asked. “Most amputations we can reattach the limb. The only exceptions are when the limb is lost or with specific curses that inhibit healing. Usually people hit with such curses are hit with more than one and tend not to survive the experience. Moody was the only such survivor of the Blood War…”

“Right,” Hermione mumbled. Louder, clearer she continued, “So, we probably should pop to a muggle library, so I can show you what I'm talking about. A prosthetist should be able to make you something that looks like an arm. We can tweak its weight, so your spins come out the way you expect them to, and maybe see about adding a dagger, too.”

* * *

Hermione succeeded in getting Bella to leave the robe at home. The corset and skirts she suggested wouldn't stand out too much, especially in a university neighbourhood, where eccentric dressers shouldn't be unheard of.

They returned home carrying a set of books on surgery and prosthetics. Hermione had sought contact information for prosthetists, so they could get in touch with one, once they'd learned the basics and knew what to ask for.

* * *

Hermione and Bella fell asleep in the library again. Hermione woke feeling better rested than the previous morning, though the surface she slept on was noticeably lacking in comfort. Bella must have woken up earlier and made her way elsewhere already.

Hermione found her way to the kitchen, looking for a cup of tea, but reconsidered when she walked in.

“Really, Bella?” she said, shocked, staring at the blood draining in the sink.

Bella, waved her wand and a slice of arm bone fell into the sink. She cast once more, stemming the bleeding somewhat. She put her wand down and grabbed the open bottle of essence of dittany. The drops sizzled where they landed, Bella's jaw clenched, and the flesh of her arm slowly knit itself together again.

“Well, the books we read said that muggle arm amputations tend to ensure the bone is encased somewhat in muscle tissue,” Bella eventually said, as she turned her stump, trying to see the result of her efforts.

“It seemed best to make sure my arm looks the way the 'prosthetist' will expect it to look,” Bella said, looking pleased at the outcome of her morning surgery.

Hermione huffed. “And, that's a thing you should do at seven in the morning, on your own, in the kitchen?”

Bella shrugged. “I was bored.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She walked over to the stove, grabbing the kettle. “Good thing there's water in here already. I'll make us tea and you can clean up the sink.”

* * *

It ended up being one of the few occasions where Harry initiated a hug. He grabbed hold of her and wouldn't let go, whispering in her ear, “Do you know how worried we were? Don't you _ever_ do that again. Thank you for getting _her_ out of there. How did you get away?”

Eventually Ginny rescued Hermione from Harry's grip (and his incessant questions), tapping him on the shoulder with a “We'd like to say hello, too, you know.” That seemed enough to get Harry to let her go, blushing.

“'Mi,” Ginny scolded, “if you had gotten yourself killed, I would have _murdered_ you,” and then, quieter, “thank you.”

The others had similar messages for her, except for Luna who just smiled her beatific smile. Hermione gave her a hug, whispering “We're not ready to let people know yet, so please don't tell. I've got a message for you; I'll tell you after.” Luna's smile remained unchanged, but her eyes sparkled.

She looked at the faces of her friends, crowded around her, happy to see her well after their adventure at the Department of Mysteries.

“Okay,” she started, hesitatingly, “I got help from someone unexpected, but they don't want their identity to be known yet, so I'll have to let out some details.

It was obvious we were in trouble, and needed, ideally, both a distraction and to get Lestrange out of the fight.

Not long ago I read a book on rituals that let you bind someone's magic; I used one of the rituals I found in that book on Lestrange.”

Ron and Harry stood and gaped at Hermione. In awe, Ginny whispered, “You what?”

Hermione shrugged, continuing her tale. “We both felt the wave of magic from the ritual. The person who ended up helping me somehow noticed which magic I cast, and realised that the ritual was incomplete and would end up killing me.

Once I was out of the Veil room, Lestrange was nowhere to be seen. My, for want of a better word, rescuer pulled me along, trying to find a ritual room. Once they found one they did what was necessary to stabilise my magic, then helped me get out of the Ministry. They healed me, helped me send you a letter, and the next day helped me get to my parents.”

Neville, Ginny, Ron, and Harry looked stunned, though happy with that outcome. Luna nodded, smiling.

“So,” Hermione continued, “how did you guys fare?”

Ginny, Ron, and Harry tried talking at the same time. After a moment, Ginny was declared the spokesperson.

“Lestrange demanding to know what you did and then pulling you out of the room confused some Death Eaters and caused some chaos. Malfoy tried to grab the prophecy, but broke it; we ended up running, Luna and me escaping the Death Eaters that held us captive.

We heard different people shouting different orders; it took a bit before they got it together and chased after us. We had enough of a head start that all of us made it to the main door, where we ran into Sirius, Tonks, Moody, and a few others from the Order. The Death Eaters portkeyed out and Moody swore up a storm that the anti-portkeying ward hadn't activated yet.

"Dumbledore sent us all back to Hogwarts after he sent Tonks and Kingsley to go search for you. He told Harry the prophecy and Harry destroyed Dumbledore's office as thank you for keeping secrets from him.”

Hermione looked at Harry, who shrugged. Harry took a step closer to Hermione, and whispered the prophecy in her ear. 

Ginny waited for the little exchange to wrap up, then continued. “We all got overnight accommodations from Madam Pomfrey, with sleeping draughts, to keep from worrying about you. By the next morning your letter had arrived, so we finally relaxed and started packing for the trip home.”

The six friends chatted a little about their plans and hopes for the summer. Harry would join 'snuffles' early, he said. The Weasleys were staying home, mostly, though probably would go on a few day trips. Luna might join her dad for an expedition, but was waiting to hear back about another adventure first. Neville had plans for his greenhouse, hoping to get started growing some new cultivars.

They all hugged each other goodbye, planning to write to see when they could maybe meet up to do their school shopping. Hermione passed a message on to Luna, grabbed her trunk, and then went into Kings Cross proper where she took the train that would take her to Bella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so Wormtail didn't get a prosthetic hand. Then again, he was less of an idiot here and only cut off his pinky finger. The ritual wanted "flesh of the servant" but that doesn't specify an amount, now does it?


	4. Meeting the Professionals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella and Hermione go meet the prosthetist. And the prosthetist. And the prosthetist.  
A friend sends them a letter, asking a pointed question.

They had just apparated to a different neighbourhood and now made their way to the next address on Hermione's list.

Hermione huffed. 

She took a deep breath, then turned to Bella. “Bella, can you _this time_ refrain from asking if they can embed a dagger in your arm? Or if the gripping action would be sufficiently strong to crush a trachea? Or if it's possible to have the fingers on the prosthetic be curled, so it'd be more suitable for punching someone in the face?

“Like, can we _this time_ not end up having to obliviate the prosthetist and find another one?”

“Well,” Bella said haughtily, “if you'd get over having to have a conversation again we could have remained with one of the previous ones.”

“Swot here, remember? I'm no good at acting and it feels too awkward to have a conversation we already had without letting on to that.”

“On the bright side,” Bella said, no remorse whatsoever in her voice, “we've already got a second and third opinion regarding what's possible with a prosthetic.”

* * *

A few days into their married life they worked out that sleeping in separate rooms made them feel miserable come morning.

That night Hermione followed Bella to the master bedroom, having changed into sleep clothes in what used to be her room. Neither one said a word about the change.

As Bella had predicted, they didn't argue over which side of the bed to sleep on.

Each day slightly more of Hermione's stuff migrated to their room.

* * *

Bella towered over her, wand held high, black skirts flaring, her signature corset hugging her body.

“You know why you were losing, at the Ministry?”

Before Hermione could answer Bella's spell hit her in the chest. Hermione felt herself black out, then snap out of it before she'd even fallen down. She stumbled, ending up on one knee.

“That's how long it takes to _renervate_ someone who has been stunned.

“The only reason to stun someone in a fight is to give you half a second to cast something more effective that they won't be able to block, or to disarm them and break their wand.

“Still, a bone breaker is probably your best friend. People tend to be less focused when their wand hand is shrapnel, and it takes hours to recover from it… so you know they'll stay out of the fight for a bit.

“No need to kill or permanently injure someone: a cutter to their wand arm or a bone breaker will do just fine. If it's a running fight then breaking their legs will keep them where they are, so you can get rid of them that way.

“See, you don't have to _marry_ your opponents to take them out of the fight.”

Hermione just stuck out her tongue.

All through the explanation, a smiling Bella was dancing her way through the duelling room, casting spells at the dummies, taking out opponent after opponent. 

She ended with a twirl, turned towards Hermione, and with a grin said “Your turn.

“When you cast, feel the magic flow. Enjoy the energy it gives you. I've said it before, I don't _just_ cackle because it unnerves people. Duelling is _fun_.”

* * *

“Anyone who paid attention to what he said would have known he was a fraud, but I guess at first he had his good looks, and later on he had his circle of acolytes and the strength he gained from some of his rituals. It seemed enough to impress some people.

“I don't understand why so many Slytherins, of all people, were taken in by the man. He claimed to be for the 'old blood' yet he'd unabashedly claim that 'there is only power and those too weak to seek it'. It shouldn't take a genius to work out that if _power_ truly is the only thing, then blood means nothing. House of the cunning, feh.

“So, I chose to have nothing to do with the man; I figured I'd be safely duelling my way across the continent.” She half-shrugged, smirking at Hermione's expression at the idea of “_safely_ duelling” in some underground circuit.

“And then my parents sold me to _Lestrange_, with a marriage contract with terms that if I'd known them I'd have sent my parents across the river Styx for.

“He compelled me to join that lot, which ended up being a ticket to Azkaban.”

Hermione boggled at the idea of marriage contracts with compulsions in them. “Oh yeah, those are common in the old houses. They keep secrets secret and ensure there'll be no reneging on the deal. It's considered a _business transaction_, remember.

“So thanks for breaking that contract, pet.” Bella leaned over and kissed her forehead.

* * *

They had set up facing desks in the library, so they each had space to work. The paths they had claimed their wedding night remained unchanged.

Hermione had gathered multiple stacks of books. She had built a wall of books surrounding her, almost hiding her entirely; in the middle she had her notes, quill and ink. Her face was stained with ink. 

“Trying to hide from me, pet?” Bella asked, amusement evident in her voice.

Hermione looked up, bewildered at having been dragged out of her focused research. Once she worked out what was happening she blushed at being caught unaware, then smiled at her wife.

That thought threw her for a moment; she was married, a few months shy of her seventeenth birthday and she was _married_. She had a _wife_, who was clever and driven and elegant and…

And wanted by the government and deemed the enemy by her allies.

“I did find some interesting things we could do with your arm,” Hermione said, “but I just realised we may need to tell some people about you, about us.”

Before Bella could respond they heard tapping at the library window. Hedwig sat on the window sill, rustling impatiently. Hermione opened the window; the irate bird pecked at her fingers, sticking out her leg, an envelope attached to it.

She offered the bird a treat, which seemed to soothe her mood at least somewhat.

The envelope bore the Black family crest, repeated in the wax sealing the ornate letter.

> Dear Hermione Jean Black,
> 
> Was there something you may have forgotten to mention? (You did remember the family tapestry here, right?) 
> 
> I've not told Harry yet, and Dumbledore nor Snape will find out from me. Those two (and their club) have been barred from the house. Their condescension and habit of keeping secrets from us got on my nerves. Banishing them while they were visiting, so the wards ejected them, may have been a bit dramatic, but I enjoyed it.
> 
> Anyway, mind enlightening me why you are on the Black family tapestry (and why my cousin didn't murder you first chance she got)?
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Snuffles

Bella laughed. “Well, pet, looks like we have at least one person to tell about us, indeed.”

After they sent a letter explaining that his cousin hadn't voluntarily joined Riddle and admitting to their accidental marriage (knowing full well that there'd be no end to the ribbing she'd get from him) they received a brief reply from Sirius. Since he had barred Dumbledore, 12 Grimmauld Place was no longer under the fidelius charm, so he was free to invite them to meet there. They promptly sent back a note of agreement.

Harry was, not coincidentally, out, visiting Ron and Ginny.

It was a good thing the wards on the property stopped the trace from registering Hermione's use of magic, as it took quite a number of stinging hexes to move the topic from 'accidental marriage' to 'what to do next'. Bella egging on Sirius and vice versa didn't help, except maybe in showing that their estrangement during the Blood War wouldn't take much effort to undo.

“I'm curious,” Hermione mused, “if the sudden death of his main funder and puppeteer may have made Fudge's position somewhat more precarious.

“Now might be a good time to contact Amelia Bones. From what I've heard she tends to be fair _and_ not without ambition, and with Fudge on the back foot she may have sufficient power to get the two of you proper trials. It shouldn't be too hard to get some statements about Umbridge threatening Harry with unforgivables, which could help push back against Fudge even more.

“If Harry would stop being a martyr for a minute, you might be able to get a statement about what she did to him over the last year, which should help, too. The _Daily Prophet_ seems to have stopped their smear campaign, so it may not take much to get him to be seen as an innocent victim of Fudge's ambitions.”

Bella smiled widely at Hermione's plotting, clapped her hands in delight, punching Sirius' shoulder, and with glee announced “I married a Slytherin, I did.”

* * *

It took them a few days to arrange a meeting with Madam Amelia Bones, with mutual reassurances about safety. Hermione's inclusion may have caused some confusion, but may also have helped with the reassurances (she had, after all, spent quite a bit of time at school with Susan Bones, Madam Bones' niece and ward).

They agreed to meet on nominally neutral ground, a meeting room at Gringotts. Madam Bones would bring an auror, not affiliated with the Order or Riddle, to have a witness to any statements that were made. Sirius would come by himself, but would bring memories and statements from others. (Harry, Ginny, and Neville provided those, but it seemed best to not tell Madam Bones that until she knew his backstory.) Bella and Hermione would come together.

The night before the meeting Hermione sent Madam Bones a letter, asking if it would be acceptable if one more party and their companion would join them, subject to the same promises and reassurances.

That morning, a few minutes to ten, five people wearing black, hooded capes arrived at the Diagon Alley apparition point. They made their way to the towering bank building, trying not to draw attention while looking around for threats.

One of the Goblin guards approached the group as they entered the bank. The guard paused briefly, then realising who they were, guided the group to their meeting room.

“Fuck, hell, and damnation,” Bella shouted as they entered the meeting room. “That was _fucking_ Mcnair out there; if he recognized us he'll run to _him_ and we may have a hard time getting out of here.”

Hermione hugged Bella, caressing her back. “We'll deal with that after this meeting, okay?” she said soothingly. “Madam Bones may be able to provide some assistance; we just need a moment outside to apparate home, after all.”

Madam Bones coughed. “If the outcome of this meeting is as we all hope, then I will certainly assist in getting you all home safely, as we agreed.

“This is Auror Fenwick; she has sworn oaths that she is not affiliated with either he-who-must-not-be-named and the Death Eaters nor Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.”

Hermione stepped forward. “Good morning, Madam Bones. I am Hermione Jean Black,” at that Madam Bones' eyebrows lifted in surprise, “and this is my wife, Bellatrix Aquila Black.

“This is Sirius Orion Black, and this is Alecto Semne Lovegood accompanied by Luna Pandora Lovegood.” 

The meeting lasted for most of the day. Sirius retrieved Bella's marriage contract from the Black family vault, showing the compulsions she was under. Bella retrieved a cup that _he_ had asked her to keep safe, handing it over to Madam Bones and then returning to Hermione's side and holding her hand more tightly than was strictly necessary. They reviewed the memories of Pettigrew's confession and escape and Fudge's handling of that situation, among other incriminating memories of Hogwarts staff. Under veritaserum, Alecto, Bella, and Sirius made statements about their own cases.

After hearing their statements and reviewing the memories, Madam Bones agreed that each of them had clearly suffered a miscarriage of justice and were entitled to a trial. She believed she could arrange to schedule them during one of Fudge's absences. With some luck she might be able to use Umbridge's actions to push both her and Fudge out of the ministry, especially with the Malfoy seat empty and his voting block in disarray.

During a break in the proceedings Sirius checked out the cup Bella had retrieved, and mentioned he had something at home that had a very similar feel to it. He called Kreacher, who, along with insults to most of those present, reluctantly handed over the locket. Once Sirius promised it would be destroyed after the Unspeakables examined it the elf seemed at ease for the first time in years. 

When they wrapped up the meeting, Madam Bones offered to call a group of aurors to patrol Diagon Alley, to make sure everyone could apparate out safely. Bella asked for a few minutes, to see to some banking that needed attending “after an unfortunate inability to see to my accounts for a while.” Hermione had elbowed her in the ribs at that, hissing that Bella should consider maybe _not_ antagonising the person who was to arrange her a fair trial.

Bella shrugged and sauntered out of the meeting room, to go see her account manager. When she came back, twenty-odd minutes later, she handed Hermione a key, mentioning that all that Bella owned she now also owned. At Hermione's astounded look she just shrugged, “Equal partners, pet. I've been married where I was not one, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, least of all you.”

Hermione remained frozen.

Bella grabbed the key from her motionless hand. She threaded it through a gold chain, and gently reached around Hermione to close the clasp, hanging the chain and key from her neck.

When they stepped out of the bank the group saw the half dozen aurors spread out nearby, and a few of Bella and Alecto's former 'colleagues' hanging out further away, keeping their distance from the aurors. The moment the group reached the bottom of the stairs they apparated away, Sirius back to Grimmauld Place, the four others to Bella and Hermione's home.

* * *

Bella and Hermione sat, shoulder to shoulder; opposite them sat Alecto and Luna, similarly arranged, though Luna had curled up, feet on the sofa and arms around Alecto.

“So what did your dad think of you getting married, Luna?”

“He seemed please I married someone _gracious_; he was anxious I would not be around anymore, but once I promised we'd both visit regularly he was pleased.

“He did recommend we wait to have children until after I graduate, and after the wrackspurts plaguing Britain have moved on.”

Hermione was grateful she had swallowed her sip of tea. She hoped the low light hid her burning cheeks.

After a little while, Bella and Alecto went for a walk, leaving Luna and Hermione in the sitting room.

“Are you not weirded out by the age difference between you two,” Hermione asked, “especially as you knew what you were doing going in, unlike me.”

Luna shrugged. “At the Department of Mysteries I felt her magic. It was _marvellous_ how comfortable it felt, so I didn't really think about her age. I trust Magic.”

Hermione nodded. “When I think about it I'm uncertain, I guess. Bella's only a few years younger than my mum, she graduated years ago, she has experiences I've not had, what with the Blood War and then years in Azkaban. Yet when it comes to how I _feel_ I'm completely at ease. I have no qualms about holding her hand, snuggling up to her, spending time with her,…

“I guess that's my magic…”

“It's not only _your_ magic, it's Magic overall, it's her magic, your magic, all together,” Luna said.

“Maybe it's because I'm muggleborn that I don't feel completely at ease with the idea of something that is _not me_ directing what I do.

“It feels odd to consider that there's something different about being muggleborn, other than exposure to the muggle world.”

Luna hummed. “You are your magic, Hermione, so it is not something that is not you, maybe just something that is larger than you.”

Hermione nodded, sinking into thought.

They sat together, silently, until an excited Bella bounced in and announced it was time for bed.

“Bella,” Hermoine grumbled, “if the idea is that we're to go to _sleep_ then your loud and rambunctious announcement of that fact may be somewhat counterproductive.”

Bella just smirked as the two made their way to their bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> The colours of their robes in the ritual circle is a little hat tip to [LysSeris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LysSerris/pseuds/LysSerris)' [A Better Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18181853/chapters/43004591)


End file.
